


Comfort (Sometime's, It's Not So Easy)

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Depressed Castiel, Depressed Dean, Depression, Destiel - Freeform, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gen, Language, M/M, NC-17, Sexual Frustration, Sexuality, Sub!Dean, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2017-12-28 02:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has had a hard time since the accident. He's turned to drinking, he's been out of work, and he's hooked up with the wrong women. The last thing he ever thought he'd be doing was working at a bookstore. The first time Cas and Dean meet, Cas notices something that nobody else does. A sadness behind the hard work ethic and polite facade that Dean presents to the world. But Cas knows. He knows that Dean is sinking and needs help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Banging.  
Banging.  
Banging.  
Taste of tequila? Tequila and….pennies?  
The dulled sound of the ee-ee-eee-alarm. 

Dean groaned at the devastating combination of the banging and the alarm. The sudden transition of the darkness of sleep to the light of the real world has the intended effect. _At least I’m up_. After the room quit spinning, the scene is one that he recognized immediately. The coral pink was the color of Celila’s bathroom. The taste of tequila was his current coping mechanism. And the frustration? Ah, well, that was just Dean’s state of being as of late. He had started to rely on-

“Dean, I’m not fucking around this time. Wake UP!” Celila continued to bang on the door, much to the dismay of Dean’s massive headache.

“Yeah, yeah. I hear ya'. I’m gettin' up.” Dean said, checking himself in Celila’s bathroom mirror. 

She’d placed Post-It notes to herself all over it with various inspirational messages. Dean snatched the one that read ‘Never drink to feel better, only drink to feel EVEN better’ and put it in his pocket. He lifted up his black shirt and searched for the source of the throbbing pain in his side. Noticing a small black and blue patch forming around his rib, he dropped his shirt and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. 

“Great,” he mumbled, “Just what I need on my first day.”

He leaned forward and turned on the faucet, filling his rough hands with cool water that he splashed on his face as an instant hangover remedy and then, at the last second, decided to run some through his hair in an attempt to look halfway decent. Feeling that he looked somewhat presentable to the outside world, he took one final look around the bathroom in an attempt to piece together his first thoughts of the morning. He guessed that he must’ve gotten drunk at Celila’s again, locked himself in the bathroom – _probably another fight_ – and in his drunken stupor, tripped and managed to bruise his rib on one of the many pointy surfaces in the bathroom. _And I gotta’ stop biting my damn lip_. Tonguing the fresh cut inside his mouth, he turned off the faucet and opened the door to a lovely slap in the face.

“That’s the last time you’re _ever_ allowed in my hou-”  
“Yeah I know,” he said, massaging his cheek, “You say the same thing every time Celila. And I always say that I wouldn’t dream of comin’ back and then two days down the road, I do just that. So save your speech for how we do the same damn thing every week because trust me, I already know it.”

Dean shoved past Celila’s futile attempts to grab his shirt, feeling her influence slip away with each step he took towards the door, as if he were walking away from an amusement park and realizing how transient the entire experience had been. 

Celila took notice of his growing apathy. Sure, she said she didn’t want him to come by anymore. She really did say it every single week. But there was something about Dean that just kept pulling her back, making it impossible for her to shut the door in his face when he stumbled on her porch at 2:30 in the morning. And for a long time, she felt that if she could only get him to open up one time, _just once_ , she’d hold a key to his mind that no one else would. She’d know a Dean Winchester that other women only dream of knowing. 

But his visits rarely panned out that way. 

Dean grabbed his heavy leather coat off of the back of a chair and opened the front door, doing his best to drown out Celila’s complaints in the background. Showing up late on his first day was _not_ the kind of guy Dean was. While his personal life had taken a turn for the worst, his work ethic remained in good health. The only reason he’d been out of a job for so long was because of the accident. _Don’t be that guy, don’t be that guy, don’t be that guy_. He winced at the thought of his new manager questioning him as to why he decided it was okay for him to show up late. He sighed with relief as a glimpse at his watch assured him that it was only 7:30 in the morning and he had a full half hour to get across town. 

Noticing that Celila had finally given up on her tirade, Dean relaxed a bit and slowly breathed in the morning air. The sky was overcast, as usual, but Dean had grown accustomed to grey mornings with heavy mists and was almost beginning to prefer it to the heat back in Sandpoint. He shook his head at the thought of weather hotter than sixty degrees as fumbled in his pocket for his keys. Hand to handle, Dean unlocked the door to his sanctuary and practically melted into the seat. He tongued the cut on the inside of his lip as he started the Impala and changed the station to 107.3 KQID, the town’s best station for oldies, the perfect station for his drive to work.


	2. Chapter 2

“We’ve got a newbie today Tyler, try not to be a dick, okay?” Cas smirked as Tyler rolled his eyes and faked a frown. He piled the rest of the Fiction stack onto the cart and pushed past a few of the regulars. The business had almost tripled since the local Super Books moved locations and the school year had started, so much so that the owner had to hire someone new. New employees were rare at Alexander’s, especially since the current employees were a pretty tight-knit group. Anyone who was new was seen as an intruder, a danger to the solidity of the group. This was the reason why the newcomers usually only ever lasted a few days, a week tops. Cas didn’t expect much from the newest addition, especially since it was already 7:55 and he had yet to show up. As he placed the last book on the shelf, the door to the shop opened and in walked Dean. 

Dean scratched his nose and walked up to Tyler who was deeply involved in a game of Solitaire.  
“Hey, uh, my name’s D-”  
“Yeah, whatever. I’m on break bud and it only lasts ten minutes. Talk to someone who isn’t busy.” Tyler replied without looking up from his game.

“Alrighttty.” Dean shook his head and smirked, leaving the desk and searched for someone who looked like they had some sort of authority. He walked down what seemed like endless aisles of books, trailing his forefinger across the bindings of most that he passed. There were only around three people roaming about the shop and he was about to test his luck with the snarky kid at the front again when Cas parked his cart behind him. 

“Can I help you find something?” Cas smiled. Dean turned around quickly, managing to knock over some books. “Hey! Yeah I-” he knelt down to pick up the books, rolling his eyes at how lame he looked, “Sorry. The name’s Dean. I’m supposed to start today. I tried talking to the guy at the register but he wasn’t too much help.” Dean gave a sarcastic smile as he placed the books back on the shelf. 

Cas chuckled, “His name’s Tyler. And I’m Cas. Sorry I wasn’t up there to meet you, I should’ve known that he was going to give you a hard time. Anyways, follow me to the back and we’ll get your paperwork filled out, alright?” He smiled and began pushing his cart to the back, asking Dean impersonal questions in an attempt to relieve the stress of the first day. Dean answered respectfully, but without much enthusiasm. Cas didn’t find it rude and just assumed Dean was the quiet type, which he had no problems with, especially given the environment they worked in. He gave Dean a packet of paperwork to fill out and went to the front to remind Tyler that yes, it was that time. And yes, he did need to finish the go-backs. 

“I give him 72 hours, tops. He’s way too ‘I-worked-on-a-fishing-boat-for-10-years’ looking. Then again, I betchya Naomi will totally dig that.” Tyler gave a wide forced smile and whistled on his way back to the stockroom. _I wish he’d tell her already_ , Cas thought as he organized the area surrounding the register.

The rest of the day consisted of Cas training Dean on where the books were sorted, how to do go-backs, where the employee room was located, when he could take break and for how long, and other essential rules surrounding the workplace. Dean listened attentively to all of the information as Cas became increasingly more aware of a sadness behind Dean’s eyes. He’d seen that kind of sadness before, but he couldn’t remember exactly where. He tried to forget about it as nothing else about Dean’s attitude gave him the impression of his life as a difficult one. He was attentive, polite, did everything Cas asked him to do, and even smirked at Tyler’s general hazing. At the end of the day, he held the door open for everyone filing out of the store and asked Cas when he should come by next. 

“Oh yeah, that’d probably help, huh? Why don’t you come by on Thursday around 2? We close early tomorrow so there’s no use coming in.” He replied as he locked the door to the shop. He turned around as he put the keys in his pocket.  
“Sure, sounds good. I’ll be here at 2.” Dean replied, trying to hide, unsuccessfully, the sudden pang of emotion that hit him at the realization he’d be alone tomorrow.  
Cas wrinkled his brow slightly as he noticed the slight change in Dean’s face. The mysteriousness that surrounded the new employee intrigued and frustrated him. It was something that would bother him until he fell asleep that night. 

Dean, on the other hand, felt that his first day had been a success. The bookstore was a little monotonous and slow moving, but he felt that that was kind of what he needed at this point in his life. Plus, he was glad at any kind of work he could get. Tyler was kind of annoying, but he figured it was more of a territorial thing than something malicious, and he liked Cas. There was something honest about him. Wait…was it honesty? No. No maybe it was something else. Easiness? He didn’t know. He couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but he felt like he was already ready to go to work again. Dean got started up his car and hit the road.

As he pulled out onto the freeway, he tried to plan out the rest of his night. He knew he didn’t want go back to his home, which would be dark and empty, a constant reminder of how alone he was. The yellowing wallpaper, the intensely bright and unshaded light bulbs, the cold and unwelcoming bed…just the thought of it made his stomach sink. He also knew he didn’t want to see Celila. He saw the exit to his favorite dive-bar and decided that that was how he’d spend his night. And potentially the next day. He parked his car in the back, next to Jimmy’s yellow pickup and headed inside, his mouth watering over the thought of the whiskey that was about to rescue him from his loneliness. 

Lois greeted him with a hearty hello and began pouring him a glass as soon as he entered. He greeted her, along with the other regulars and exchanged polite questions as to how everyone’s day had been, responding in kind. Lois brought him over his glass of whiskey and a burger and a basket of fries, on the house. She sat in the seat opposite him and asked him the same questions the regulars had, wondering about his new job and how he and Celila were getting on. He lied about Celila and was truthful about the job. Seemingly satisfied with his responses, Lois rose and greeted another one of the regulars, returning to her position behind the bar. He shot back the glass of whiskey before it seemed like time had elapsed at all and began eating the burger, noticing the warmth of the drink coursing through his empty stomach. The burger and fries were delicious and Dean let Lois know of his appreciation for the food with his mouth full. Lois admonished him on speaking to her with a mouth full of food and poured him another whiskey along with a beer. By the time she brought over the drinks he had completely demolished the burger and thanked her again for the food and drink.

“Don’t mention it hun, you know I know what you like.”

She winked at him; the way aunts wink at their nephews. She was the only source of maternal comfort he had known for years. She was there for him the night of the accident, the night he died, the night John left, and almost every night in between. He was never quite sure how many of her actions towards him were simply because he was a paying customer, but he liked to think that she genuinely cared for him. Even if that was a lie, it helped him sleep at night. The encroaching thoughts of nights he wished to forget about quickened the consumption of the alcohol in front of him and he left a twenty on the table as he rushed out the door. Lois did not mess around when it came to her customers drinking and driving and she was usually quite good about securing them rides when they had had too much, Dean especially. He wasn’t in the mood to have to pay for a cab to get him home and then later, to get him back to his car, so he decided to test his luck. He had only had a few drinks and he had become quite confident in his inebriated driving skills.

He slid in his car, turned on the radio, and began his drive home. When he was about two blocks from his house, he decided to stop in at the drugstore in order to delay going home. He also had a serious craving for some chocolate, a habit that developed when he started drinking in community college. He parked his car next to a forest green truck that he momentarily thought he recognized but, shaking it off, walked inside. Walking past the melancholy fellow customers of the night, he headed straight towards the brightly lit candy section. He grabbed a bar of chocolate and immediately began unwrapping it, stuffing half of it into his mouth to free his hands for the conquest of more candy. When he had about 3 more bars in his hands, he turned around rapidly to head towards the register.

His candy bars hit the ground as he slammed into another customer. The customer immediately apologized and bent down to get Dean’s bars for him while Dean silently cursed as he pressed his hand against his rib. The gentleman before him was wearing a nice vest and had soft looking brown hair. This was all Dean could see from the position of the customer knelt before him. He picked up the bars and handed them to Dean who was busy examining his bruised rib. 

“Dean?” Dean looked up from his bruise directly into the bright eyes of Cas. “Hey! I’m sorry for knocking you over there, I never look where I’m going, it’s a stupid habi—Are you okay?” Cas apologized, softly placing his fingers on Dean’s bruise. It was something he had done without thought, something that he’d do for anyone who showed any sign of injury, but something that he immediately felt strange about. Dean instinctively shrank away from Cas’s touch and Cas dropped his hand almost as quickly as he had placed it. Dean shook his head that he was okay, dropped his shirt, and tried to chew and swallow the candy as fast as possible. He had accidentally bit the cut on the inside of his lip but cleared his throat and returned the apology to Cas.  
“I’m fineee. I really am and you know what? That was my bad man,” he slurred, trying his hardest to seem sober.  
Cas wrinkled his brow and gave a half smile, tilting his head very slightly to one side. For a second, Dean thought he saw a glimpse of sadness behind Cas’s eyes but decided it was either pity or the alcohol. He said abruptly said good night and walked past Cas towards the register, stumbling a bit on the way.  
Cas watched as Dean purchased the multitude of candy in his arms and struggled inwardly with whether or not he should do something. Dean was obviously drunk, obviously drove there, and probably could use some assistance, but he didn’t want to overstep his boundaries. He had only met him a few hours earlier. He waited for Dean to finish paying for his candy and followed him out the door, waving good night to Maria who was behind the register. He caught up with Dean as he was getting into his car.

“Hey, I know I just met you today but I feel like…like I have an obligation to not let you drive home, especially as your pseudo-manager. You’re obviously pretty wasted and I’d feel somewh-”  
Dean interrupted him, “I’m…I’m not drunk okay-y, I’ll be fine. I’ve done this before and I live only—I only live like two-ish blocks from here anyways, alright?”

Cas placed his hand on Dean’s door firmly and bent over, leaning in towards Dean. “I know that you may live only a few blocks away Dean, but I am worried about you, alright? Why don’t you let me give you a ride home? Or, if you’re okay with it, I can drive you in your car. Would that be alright with you, Dean?”

Dean opened his mouth to give a better explanation as to why he was sober enough to drive home, but nothing came out. He also felt like Cas wasn’t going to take no for an answer and so he slid to the passenger’s seat and let Cas inside. He realized this was the first time someone had been in his car for at least a few years. It felt strange. So strange that he was about to ask Cas to leave, but then felt a strong urge to repress his protests and to let Cas take him home.

Cas checked to make sure Dean’s seatbelt was on, buckled his own, and started up the car. He realized that he’d have to come back for his truck later but shrugged his shoulders and decided he’d count the walk back as his exercise for the day. He turned to Dean for directions only to find that Dean had fallen fast asleep, his lips parted into somewhat of a pout. Cas smiled slightly and unbuckled his seat belt, leaning over to search Dean’s pockets for his wallet. Worried that Dean might startle, Cas softly told him that he was looking for his license in order to get an address. Dean didn’t startle and Cas slid his hand into Dean’s left pocket, concerned that he noticed the feel of Dean’s muscles as he slowly pulled out the wallet and a crumpled ball of paper. He opened the paper and quietly read aloud, “Never drink to feel better, only drink to feel EVEN better.” He frowned, shoved the paper in his own pocket and turned to the wallet. He found the license and read the address, pleased that he knew the street and how to get there. He put the wallet back inside Dean’s pocket and drove towards Dean’s home.

When they pulled into the driveway, Cas immediately noticed that the house looked practically deserted. It was a large yellow Victorian home with a massive oak tree overlooking the front yard. It looked to be about two stories tall with white accents around each window. There were no lights on in or outside of the home, with no outside decorations signifying that someone lived there other than a chair on the porch. Cas parked the car and unsuccessfully attempted to wake Dean up. He grabbed Dean’s chocolate and got out of the car, walking to the passenger’s side. He slowly opened the door and knelt down to help Dean stand up without hurting himself. Dean mumbled about how he didn’t need a ride home and he could drive perfectly fine as he put his arm over Cas’s shoulder. He opened the front gate and walked Dean up to the chair on the front porch, helping him to sit down. As he was lifting Dean’s head off of his shoulder, Cas swore he heard Dean whisper, “Please don’t.” He shook off the thought and finished putting Dean in the chair, looking around the porch for a spare key. He found it under the mat, unlocked the door and turned on the porch light on the switch next to the door. The light was extremely dim but Dean found a way to complain about the brightness and how he could’ve easily driven home by himself. Cas kept reassuring him that he was certain he could’ve driven home, he was just worried and wanted to be sure Dean was safe. He lifted Dean out of the chair and walked him inside, with the sense that the home they were entering had never been lived in. Or rather, the home hadn’t been lived in by anyone for a very, very long time. 

Rather than brave the stairs, Cas settled on leaving Dean on the couch. Luckily, it seemed that that was where Dean himself preferred to sleep, as there were already pillows and blankets thrown about the floor. Cas picked up a blanket and a few pillows and sat on the edge of the couch, lifting Dean’s head up to fit the pillow in. Dean lazily grabbed Cas’s vest, pulling him towards him as he struggled to keep his eyes open. “Please,” was all he managed to get out. Cas instinctively ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, as if he was a child who had just had a nightmare. Dean slowly released his grip on Cas’s vest and Cas noticed Dean’s chest falling into a rhythmic motion of relaxed breathing. The smell of chocolate escaped Dean’s lips with each breath. Cas stopped combing through Dean’s hair and shook his head, unsure of why he was even touching Dean in the first place. He decided he’d stay until Dean fell asleep, pulled out his phone and texted Alex saying that he’d be out late. He sat in the recliner next to the couch and switched on the TV, mindlessly flipping through channels as his mind was racing. _What am I doing here? Why did I agree to drive him home? Well obviously I should’ve driven him home, he’s beyond drunk. He could’ve killed himself. Actually – he could’ve killed someone ELSE. And I would’ve been held responsible in some offhand way._ His thoughts continued on like this for about thirty more minutes before his eyes felt heavy with sleep and he released his hold on consciousness. The only sounds in the house were the deep breathing of Cas and Dean; the smell of chocolate, whiskey, and leather filled the room as the two men each fell into the warm embrace of sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few weeks passed by with a simplicity that Dean wasn’t used to. There was a definite routine at the bookstore that never seemed to break. Mondays were, by far, the most boring day of the week. Everything seemed to take place in slow motion. The customers were slow, the shipments were slow, the phones were slow, even the music was slow. Tuesdays were the early days because the business found out long ago that Tuesdays were even slower than Mondays, so they decided to close up shop around one in the afternoon. Wednesdays through Saturdays were moderately busy, faster than Mondays but nothing crazy ever happened. Sundays were definitely the busiest days, and they were also the days where Dean noticed that he and Cas barely had any interaction on any of the days he worked.

The night of the first day that they met, when Cas had driven him home and saved him from a potential DUI, Dean had slept more soundly then he had been able to sleep in years. And he knew it. He had woken up the next morning to an empty house; no sign that Cas had ever been there. The only reason he knew that he hadn’t dreamt the whole thing up was because Cas asked him if he was still hungover when he came in the day after for work. 

Dean had noticed the strange way they interacted with one another since that night. Whenever they were unintentionally alone, one would inevitably feel that they had to leave the room, as if something bad would happen were they to stay in the same space for too long. Dean always felt like Cas wanted to tell him something, but couldn’t figure out what or why. He also noticed that Cas was incredibly stubborn, much like himself. The two seemed to constantly argue over the most trivial things from pricing problems to book displays and the only time they ever settled an argument was when a third-party made the decision for them. 

Weeks passed without incident. Dean continued to visit his favorite bars and had once again, turned to Celila to provide him with drives home. Lois had taken to snatching his keys as soon as he entered the bar after she found out he’d been sneaking out to drive home many of the nights he visited. Dean would occasionally stop in at the local drugstores in the middle of the night, with some faint hope that he might run into Cas, just for the sake of running into someone who cared to wonder how he’d been. Curiously, Cas had given no indication that he actually cared for Dean. Other than that one night, he’d remained relatively distant. Their arguments at work never strayed from being about work-related issues. He treated Dean exactly like he treated Tyler, without the slightest hint that anything had occurred between them. Whenever Dean thought about this fact, it irritated him. He didn’t understand why, but it did. Perhaps it was because he’d gotten so used to people pretending to care that when he had a glimpse of actual concern, it threw him off. Or perhaps it was because he never got to thank Cas for helping him out that night, but felt that too much time had passed for the expression of gratitude to feel relevant. He wasn’t sure. But he was sure that he needed to thank Cas at some point to avoid coming off as an ungrateful prick, even if it wasn’t relevant.  
The next Sunday was an especially busy day that ended up in everyone having to stay overtime. At around 9pm, Cas recognized the exhaustion in his coworker’s faces and sent everyone home.  
“Guys, I’m sorry we had to stay so late. Naomi had to call in sick and I spaced that this week was midterms. Everyone will get double-pay for their hours and Tyler, you get tomorrow off.” He smiled, tiredly.

Tyler jumped excitedly and threw up the peace sign as he grabbed his bag and walked out the door. Jan, Derek, and Cheryl all assured Cas that it was okay as they left, waving goodnight to him and Dean. 

Dean and Cas were the only two left.

“There’s no way I’m headin’ home if you’re just gonna’ stay here alone and try to finish up the go-backs. No way in hell.” Dean said, raising an eyebrow at Cas.

Cas laughed lightly, “I don’t know why I thought I could trick you into thinking that wasn’t the case. And God knows you’ll just argue with me about it until I let you help.”

“Damn straight.” Dean said, leaning on the desk.

“Alright. Well let’s just close up shop. Naomi can clean up tomorrow when she opens, that’ll be her payback for skipping out today.” Cas gave a sarcastic smile to Dean as he performed the closing duties on the computer. 

It was silent. 

The humming of the computer and Cas’s light tapping on the keyboard filled Dean with uneasiness. This was the first time they’d been alone since that night. He wrinkled his brow and tried to finally thank Cas for helping him out.

“Hey Cas, I wanted to-”

“Wanna go get a drink?” Cas interrupted him and looked up from the computer screen with a blank look on his face.

Dean looked at him for a few seconds, blinked and nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Yeah let’s do that,” he said as he pushed himself off the desk. 

Cas nodded and told Dean to wait for him outside while he finished up the closing duties. 

The two drove in separate cars to the bar. Cas suggested three different bars before they finally agreed on one as Dean had frequented the first suggestions and didn’t want to run into someone he knew. He wanted Cas to have a better image of him then the dropout who went to a bar every night. They finally agreed on a bar that Cas suggested that was further out of town, one where Dean wouldn’t have to deal with an onslaught of vaguely interested questions as to who Cas was. It was on the drive there that Dean realized he hadn’t gone to a bar as a social move for a very long time. The thought of actually speaking to someone, speaking about things that went deeper than how he was doing or how his job was or how Celila and him were doing was intimidating. 

Cas arrived first and chose a booth in the corner of the bar, grabbing two beers before he took his seat. He took the bottle caps off both the beers and relaxed into his seat, leaning his head backwards. Dean walked in and searched for Cas, thinking he chose a seat at the bar. He took a barstool and was about to order a beer when Cas called him over to the booth. Dean nodded his head in recognition and walked over to the booth, sat down and gave a half smile.

“Already got you one,” Cas said, lifting his head forward as he smiled at Dean. 

Dean thanked him for the beer and lifted his up for a cheers, mentally making a note that Cas had already opened the beer for him. That small act of kindness, or whatever it was, made his cheeks flush. Cas noticed. 

“So,” he said, sipping his beer, “What were you trying to tell me back at the shop? Sorry I cut you off by the way, this week’s just been rough.” 

He placed the beer back on the table and held it between both of his hands.

He examined Dean as Dean made up a story about what he was trying to say back at the shop. He watched with a carefully concealed concern as Dean’s sad green eyes flickered as he lied. He noticed the rosy color rising to his cheeks whenever Cas looked him directly in the eyes. He noticed the way Dean’s fingers wrapped around the beer bottle tightly, the droplets of water slipping in between his fingers, making his hands seems as though they were sparkling. He noticed the way Dean wrinkled his brow while talking, the way his body was positioned, like he was perpetually getting ready to leave, the way his eyes were constantly averting Cas’s gaze. He noticed these things. And he couldn’t understand why Dean was so tense.

“What’s wrong Dean?” He asked, pushing his beer aside. 

Dean looked him in the eyes for about half a second and shifted his position into one of forced casualness. 

“What do you mean? Nothin’s wrong, just a long day.” He said, looking out at the bar around them. 

Cas maintained his position and continued to look directly at Dean.

“Yeah, right, but what’s wrong? More than what happened today.” 

Dean laughed lightly without smiling. “I dunno what you mean Cas. Nothin’s wrong. I’m fine.”

Cas tilted his head to the right. “See, you say that, but you won’t even look me in the eye. You look like you’re about to bolt through those doors and you won’t tell me what you were trying to tell me at the shop today. So what’s the deal?”

Dean raised his eyebrows and took a chug of the beer. He held it in his hand, tightening his grip as he replied to Cas.

“I just told you what I was trying to say at the shop. Other than that, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just havin’ a beer.”

Inside he felt his stomach drop. This was the guy he was hoping to see at the drug stores in the middle of the night. This was the guy who expressed a genuine concern for him, something he didn’t have to _hope_ was genuine but something that legitimately _was_ genuine. This was that guy. And this was the moment that he’d been simultaneously dreading and hoping for. The moment where someone asked him how he was doing and really wanted to know the answer. And he was fucking it up. Royally. _Why can’t I just be honest? Why is it so god damn hard for me to just say what I need to say? What am I gonna just wait another five weeks to thank him?_

“Look. I get it. You don’t want to come off as sappy or something, I get it, I do. But you need-” 

“I wanted to say thank you.” Dean interrupted him, looking up from the table and into his blue eyes. “I wanted to say thank you for driving me home that one night. That’s all.” 

Cas smiled and Dean broke eye contact, searching the room for a point to focus on to rid himself of the heat that was flooding his veins. 

“You’re welcome, Dean.” Cas smiled, finishing his own beer. “Now, want another?” He said, shaking the empty bottle. 

Dean nodded in approval, “I’ll go get us some.” 

He walked over to the bar and ordered two beers. There were only a few people on the barstools; one of them gave Dean a strange look. Dean rolled his eyes and leaned his back against the bar as he waited for the beers. He snuck a glance at Cas who had his head leaning back against the wall, eyes gazing at the ceiling. Dean wondered why Cas asked him out to a drink in the first place. Why didn’t he invite Tyler, or any of the others they worked with? Why just Dean? Was it simply because he wanted to find out what was wrong? And if that was the case, why did they have to come to a bar to discuss that? Cas leaned forward from his gaze and set his eyes on Dean. Dean attempted to look as though he had just happened to see Cas at that moment and turned around to grab the beers. He opened them both, just as Cas had done earlier, and set Cas’s beer down in front of him. Cas softly smiled at the gesture and thanked him.

Dean relaxed into his seat and started drinking his beer as Henry, the bartender, walked over with shots. 

“Cas! Long time no see buddy.” He gave a hearty smile to Cas and nodded at Dean. “Where ya’ been?” 

Cas greeted Henry warmly and answered his general questions about work, where he’d been, what he’d been up to. Dean sat quietly and drank his beer until Henry turned to him.

“And what’s your name son?” 

Dean winced inwardly at being called son and cleared his throat, “Dean. Nice to meet ya’.”

They shook hands and Henry pulled out the bottle of whiskey. 

“Hope ya’ like whiskey Dean, it’s the only shot I serve.” 

Henry laughed as he filled the glasses. Cas tried to protest but ultimately failed. Dean felt his mouth watering at the thought of the whiskey running down the back of his tongue.

He smiled at Henry and thanked him, “Whiskey’s my drink of choice.” 

Henry laughed in approval and the three of the men did a total of two rounds of shots. Dean was impressed both by Cas even consenting to the shots in the first place and by Henry, the bartender. He took a mental note of the bar as a definite stop on his weekly circuit. A group of older men walked in, forcing Henry to return to the bar. 

“It was nice seein’ ya Cas, come back sooner next time eh?” 

He gathered up the shot glasses and left the table.

Cas shook his head at Dean and answered his question before Dean could ask.

“I used to come here a lot before I worked at the bookstore. This place was my regular bar after school.”  
Dean gave a quick chuckle and relaxed into his seat. The two talked about Cas’s college days while Dean chose to hide the fact that he had dropped out. When the discussion of school came to a close, Dean asked how Cas came to work at the bookstore and Cas relayed the story. By that time, the whiskey had begun to take hold. Cas’s eyes kept wandering to Dean’s rough hands holding the beer bottle as Dean kept stealing glances at Cas’s lips when he smiled. The tension was reaching a peak when Dean finally asked a personal, but extremely lame, question. 

“So…Cas. That’s an interesting name. Is it short for something?” Dean asked, resting his arm on the back of the booth. 

Cas smiled, “Yeah. It’s short for Castiel. Both of my parents were into some strange stuff when I was born and I get to reap the benefits.”

“Castiel. That’s cool. How come you don’t use the long version?” Dean asked, trying to seem nonchalant about the whole thing.

“Eh, Cas is easier for people to deal with and honestly, the only person who called me Castiel was my mother. She _hates_ the nickname.” His eyes lit up at the thought of his mother and his body stiffened. 

“I mean, she hat _ed_ the nickname.”

Dean tried to diffuse the situation by backing off the personal stuff.

“Well, it’s your name. Whatever blows your skirt up I guess.” Dean lifted the beer to his lips as he glanced at Cas who was looking at him intently. The two held each other’s gaze for a few seconds before Cas smiled softly and drank the rest of his beer quickly. 

“Dean, I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” He pulled out his wallet and put a twenty on the table, “Thanks for comin’ out. It’s been nice.” He got up quickly and started walking towards the door, waving goodnight to Henry, the bartender. 

“Thanks for the drinks, Henry.”

“Anytime Cas, anytime. Have a good one alright?” He said, wiping down the glasses.

Dean tried to tell Cas to wait but he was already out the door. He got out of the booth quickly, thanked Henry, and rushed out the door. He looked around for Cas’s car and saw him getting into it. 

“HEY! CAS!” Dean yelled as he ran towards Cas’s car. Cas didn’t hear him and shut the door. Dean reached the car and knocked on the window, confused as hell as to why Cas was ditching him so abruptly.

Cas opened the door and looked at the ground, “What, Dean?” 

“The hell do you mean what? What’s that all about? What are you defensive about your name or some shit? Why’d you just run out like that?” Dean felt his body getting hot.

“No, I’m not defensive about my name. I just… I just remembered that I have something to do early tomorrow. In the morning.” Cas replied.

“Right. You have something to do tomorrow? Right. I mean we just got here. We only had two drinks and a little whiskey. I don’t get why you’re leaving so quickly. Look if you don’t want to talk about personal stuff or whatever, fine. We won’t.” Dean felt pathetic and weak. Like he was begging for attention from some guy who probably _did_ have something to do early in the morning. He stood up straight and realized how desperate he sounded. _You are coworkers. He asked you out for a drink, that’s it. What the fuck are you doing? Stop acting so god damn dramatic._

Dean was in the middle of turning to leave when he felt Cas’s soft hand grab his own. The contact practically flooded Dean’s veins with warmth. Cas got out of the car slowly and apologized. 

“Sorry,” He said, as he held Dean’s hand, “Sorry.”

Dean turned around and faced Cas, feeling the effects of the whiskey entirely. Cas looked like he wanted to say something. Or maybe it looked like he just lost something. Dean couldn’t tell. He felt his breathing speed up as he softly tightened his hand around Cas’s.

“It’s…fine,” he said lowly, chewing on the inside of his lip.

His face felt hot and he couldn’t think of anything to say. 

He finally let go of Cas’s hand and muttered, “You shouldn’t drive home.” 

Cas looked up at him and ran his fingers through his hair. 

“You’re right, I shouldn’t.” 

He pulled out his phone and called a cab, mouthing to Dean if he wanted to share the ride. Dean nodded in agreement and put his hands in his pockets as he looked up at the sky. The first drop of water hit him on the nose and he looked at Cas. More drops of water started coming down as Cas unlocked his car, motioning for Dean to get inside. They both got in the car before the rain started coming down in full force.

“The cab will be here in about 45 minutes.” 

“Alright.” Dean said, focusing on not slurring his speech. 

He felt the all too familiar dizziness hit him as he reclined the seat. He turned his head towards Cas who was sitting up in his seat, staring out the window, looking as if he was searching for something. Dean felt his eyes getting heavy and tried to fight it off, feeling that if he could just stay awake a little longer, maybe something could happen. Maybe Cas would touch his hand again. The thought of that filled Dean with warmth as he closed his eyes. He told himself he’d only rest them for a moment. Plus, they had another 45 minutes until the cab arrived. Sleep slowly began to consume him as he fell prey to the rhythmic taps of the rain and the thought of Cas’s sad gaze. He made one last attempt at staying awake but failed on account of the sensation of someone running their fingers through his hair. He didn't have the strength to open his eyes to verify the thought and decided to chalk it up the whiskey as he finally fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

_Dean?_

_Cas._

_Dean??_

_Castiel._

_Dean!_

_“That’ll be 45--.”_

_“Yeah, sure thing. Let me just try to--”_

_“Do you need help?”_

_“No thanks, I think I’ve--”_

_Dean._  
  
Dean opened his eyes to Cas tugging at his shirt with one hand while trying to hold the door open with the other. His face was about 6 inches from Dean as he unbuckled his seatbelt and lifted Dean’s arm behind his neck. Dean shook his head quickly and let Cas carry him out of the car. The rain was coming down in sheets. Dean figured out that he had only been asleep for the cab ride to his house. Cas was soaking wet and quickly tried to pay the cab fare while he shook water from his face in an attempt to see that he paid the correct amount. The cab driver thanked him and drove off as they turned towards the house.

“This…isn’t my house,” Dean yelled over the rain.

He stepped back, as if he were surprised, while Cas grabbed his hand forcefully and led him towards the steps.

“Yeah, yeah! Complain when we’re inside!”

He led Dean up to the front door as he searched his pockets for keys. Dean surveyed the porch, taking note of the Welcome Mat with paw prints, the three pots of cactuses and the worn hammock swing that was attached to the overhang. He then stupidly asked if it was Cas’s house that they were at. Cas didn’t reply as he found the key and opened the door. Dean stood in the doorway, not sure if he was supposed to follow or if this was where they parted ways. He tended to lose sight of social customs when he’d had a bit to drink.

“Jesus, Dean, come in already.”

Cas grabbed his hand again and slightly rolled his eyes as he shut the door behind him. 

The home was incredible. Each wall was painted in a different color, yet all of the colors were complementary to each other. The furniture was comfortable looking and looked well used, not like the house that Dean was used to. It looked as if someone actually _lived_ here. There was a staircase that also functioned as a bookshelf that was filled to the brim with books that Dean recognized from the store. He walked along the bookcase, running his fingers across the bindings just as he did at the store. His eyes searched the room curiously, taking in as many details as he could, trying to piece together the kind of man Cas was when he wasn’t at the store. Turns out he was an intellectual of sorts. Apart from the bookcase there were books on nearly every surface in the living room. As he ventured into the kitchen, where Cas was getting them some water, Dean noticed a faint scent of cinnamon. 

“You been cooking somethin’?”

Cas grabbed the glasses of water and handed one to Dean, taking a seat at the high standing table. 

He laughed, “Yeah I have. I was making these gingersnap type things. My niece is having a thing at her school and I dunno, I volunteered to make them. Her mom’s always busy.”

He smiled at Dean and drank the water greedily, finishing it in one go.

Dean stood in the kitchen and sipped at the water, appreciating the feel of Cas’s home.

“Nice place you got here. I like the uh--”, he picked up a book that was open on the table, “Books. I like all the books.” He placed the book back on the table and took a larger gulp of water, rolling his eyes at his comment.

Cas chuckled.

“Dean, unless you’re planning on leaving within the next five minutes, you can relax. Take your shoes off, sit down, stop acting like you’re trespassing.”

Dean finished the water and placed the glass on the table.

“That’s alright, I think I should probably find a way home. I wasn’t planning on staying here for the night…you’ve already had to babysit me once.”

He stood in the middle of the kitchen motionless, his threat to leave filling the space between him and Cas. He realized he wanted Cas to tell him that he was welcome, that he should stay, that hell, he could stay for the rest of the week if he wanted to. But Cas said nothing and just stared at him with one eyebrow slightly raised. He opened his mouth to say goodbye as Cas rose out of the chair. 

“You’re staying.” He said, stepping carefully towards Dean. Dean wasn’t used to being commanded, rather than asked.

“No, that’s fine Cas, really. I need to get home.” 

Another empty threat.

Cas continued his approach, calling Dean’s bluff.

“You’re staying and you knew that the moment I invited you out for a drink.”

Dean felt his face getting hot as he concentrated on averting Cas’s gaze. Cas stopped about a foot from Dean, whose back was against the wall.

“Didn’t you, Dean?” 

Dean didn’t respond. His hands were clammy and his chest felt tight. He wasn’t sure what Cas was trying to pull. He felt embarrassed and cornered and knew that it showed in his face. He gnawed at the inside of his lip in an effort to get control of his body as Cas stood directly before him.

“Cas, I don’t know what you’re try-”, he tried to protest, tried to look angry. 

“Dean.”

The tone of his voice demanded attention. Dean looked into his eyes and bit harder into the inside of his lip, tasting the blood start to trickle onto his tongue. His breathing slowed into long and deep breaths. Cas’s eyes were unmoving. 

“What.”

His voice sounded strange. He knew his pretense was failing. He knew Cas could tell he wanted this. He knew it and it frustrated the hell out of him. The entire way Cas made him feel frustrated the hell out of him. It made him feel like someone was dangling a prize in front of him that he would never be able to get. Like he was trapped behind a glass that separated him from what he wanted, always able to look, but never able to have. 

“You knew, didn’t you? You knew you weren’t going home tonight.”

Dean gave up.

“Yes. I knew.”

Cas lifted his hand slowly and pushed his fingers slowly through Dean’s damp hair. Dean’s breathing sped slightly as his eyes slowly closed at the softness of Cas’s stroke.

 _Please don’t…_ , he began to think.

“Do you like when I do this?”

Dean’s eyes were still closed as Cas continued to run his hand through his hair, sending slight shocks throughout Dean’s body. Dean quietly thought that this was the first time a man had touched him like this. Hell, it was the first time _anyone_ had touched him like this. Most of his experiences were quick, dirty, and cold. He had a momentary sense of confusion at the fact that he was letting another man touch him so intimately, but quickly realized he didn’t care. He knew it was exactly what he wanted. He knew it was what he had hoped for since the moment Cas asked him out for a drink. He could try (and fail) to pretend like he didn’t want this to Cas, but he couldn’t fool himself.

“Dean, do you like when I do this?”

Cas pulled ever so slightly at Dean’s hair and Dean opened his eyes to Cas’s gaze. His eyes were soft and searching for an answer in Dean’s face.

“Yes, I like when you do that.”

Cas moved forward and continued running his hands through Dean’s hair, tilting his own head slightly to the right.

Dean noticed the tilt, as he always did, and felt the hot rush of blood coursing through his body. He loved when Cas tilted his head. He loved it, he loved it, he loved it. He loved the feeling of Cas’s fingers _anywhere_ on his body. He closed his eyes as Cas’s voice consumed him in a blanket of warmth. He didn’t even know what Cas was saying anymore, it was simply the strong tone of his voice – the commanding tone – that Dean fell prey to so easily. 

That voice made him feel as though he owed Cas something. As though Cas was doing Dean a favor by providing this intimate contact he had unknowingly searched so hard for. This contact that he wasn’t even sure existed, until now. He noticed that his breathing had calmed and the tingling in his body had subsided to a comforting lull. Cas was aware that Dean had calmed and slowly ceased massaging his fingers through Dean’s hair. Dean opened his eyes and wore a look on his face that Cas couldn’t read. 

Cas stepped back from Dean, smiled rather sadly for a few seconds.

“I guess that’s enough for now Dean, you seem tired.”

Dean opened his eyes fully, as he tried to get a handle on himself. He wanted more, but didn’t want to protest. God forbid he _ever_ seem needy. He tried to act casual, realizing an embarrassment that was quickly rising as the intimate contact had ceased. 

“Yeah…I guess I’m pretty tired.” 

Cas looked intently at him for a few seconds and then turned to get a pillow and blanket for Dean, leaving him with his head against the wall.

The mix of emotions that had momentarily consumed Dean slowly drained from him as he began to feel oddly self-conscious of his own body. Of Cas’s body. Of both of their bodies. Together. He wasn’t sure where Cas had gone off to and was left in a state of wanting. He wanted more of what had just happened, yet was also put off by the idea of more. Maybe that was all there was to their friendship? Friendship? Relationship? _Don’t be stupid, dumbass._ He had no idea what he was doing. With Cas, with life, with anything. His mind began to race, his thoughts jumping from Cas, to their time at the bar, to the state of his own cold and distant home. Home isn’t the right word, he thought, house is the right word. Dwelling. Place of residence. The thought of the egg-white walls and the single plate, fork, knife, and glass began to depress him, especially when compared to the place he was currently at. He started to feel the weight of that loneliness push on his chest.

“Alright, so, tonight might get a little cold. I brought you an extra blanket as my heating is out and I haven’t gotten around to fixing it. You can fix yourself on the couch there and you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. I normally don’t get up until late mornings on weekends so if I’m not up when you are, go ahead and raid my fridge and pantry. Make yourself at home.” 

Saved.

Cas tossed the pillow to Dean and walked over to the couch, clearing a few open books off in the process. Dean followed and thanked Cas in a low and gruff voice as he sat on the couch, untying his boots. 

“And give me your clothes, I’ll throw them in the dryer for you.” 

Dean would’ve been embarrassed if he weren’t totally confused about what had just taken place coupled with an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. Placing the heavy blanket over his knees, he took off his pants and shirt, handing them to Cas. 

“No boxers?”

“They’re dry.” 

Cas hesitated for a moment, looked as though he was about to say something, decided better of it and shut the light off.

“Goodnight Dean.”

A brief moment of silence occurred where Dean thought Cas would say something more. Realizing that was it, he responded.

“Goodnight Cas.” 

He heard Cas slowly head up the stairs as he turned his face into the pillow. The pillow that smelled like warmth and protection. I can’t do this, he thought. I shouldn’t do this, he thought. 

_I want this._

Once again, an unprecedented heavy sleep consumed Dean, and for the second night in years, he slept soundly. Soundly to dreams flooded with Cas’s commanding voice intertwined with Dean’s own voice softly whispering, _I want this, I want this, I want this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out. Midterm week!  
> Also, totally wasn't planning on ending the chapter /again/ with Dean falling asleep, I feel rather bad about that but it seemed fitting for the circumstances!


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel woke to the smell of burnt toast and the sound of his sprinkler spraying water directly at his window which was surprising given the fact that that meant he had successfully wired the sprinklers to actually _sprinkle_. With a small sense of pride at his half-working watering system, he sat up and patted lazily around the soft sheets for his glasses. 

He stretched and went to the bathroom to perform his morning routine, realizing that the smell of burnt toast meant that Dean was probably still at his house. He took off his glasses, put in his contacts, and brushed his teeth.

He splashed water over his face and ran his fingers through his hair. He tried to remember exactly what took place the night before, was pretty sure of some rather unprofessional physical contact, but had a strangely positive feeling that what _had_ taken place was a good thing. And that was exactly what he wanted. And Cas was the type that usually got what he wanted. At least, that’s the guy he was now. 

Dean had woken up surprisingly early. Perhaps it was the sound of the sprinkler spraying everything _but_ the grass. Or perhaps it was because he was painfully aware, at all times, that he wasn’t in his own house and he wasn’t staying on his own dime. He hated feeling like he owed things and he was practically swimming in debt when it came to Cas and all the personal favors he’d done him. He had already babysat him that one night, had taught him the ropes at the job, had paid for his drinks and cab ride when they went out, and now he was letting him spend the night at his house? Not to mention the situation that occurred only a few hours before. Dean had lain on the couch for almost an hour replaying the situation that had taken place. He tried to remember each word and the specific way in which Cas said it. The way his eyes looked -- as if getting what he wanted from Dean was an oh-so-easy task. The way he said his name. The way his own body reacted to Cas’s fingers through his hair. And mostly, the way it had ended much quicker than Dean wanted it to. He hated it. It was much easier for him when things were quick and easy. No attachment, no games. You do it and you get it done with and there was no room for laying around on couches wondering who felt what.

When the sprinkler had practically soaked through the screen, Dean finally decided to get off the couch and do something about it. He assumed that Cas wouldn’t be up until later and he also knew, given the overwhelming evidence, that he had absolutely no idea how to calibrate a sprinkler. _At least I can pay off the cab fare._

He spent the next few hours meticulously recalibrating each sprinkler that failed at its intended purpose, mentally taking note of a few minor improvements that could be made elsewhere in Cas’s backyard. Dean enjoyed yard work. Actually, Dean enjoyed most forms of manual labor. The simplicity and predictability of it gave him a sense of control, with outcomes that were, literally, entirely in his own hands. With a sprinkler he knew exactly which paths to take to achieve the desired end. No room for interpretation, which meant no room for confusion. 

With the last sprinkler fixed, Dean switched on the main panel to test out the efficacy of his handiwork.

“Awesome,” he said, rubbing his growling stomach as it demanded attention. 

He went back inside and searched the kitchen counters for something to eat. There was a massive bowl stacked with fruit, which practically begged to be devoured. Dean opened the bread that was next to the fruit and popped it into the toaster. He then grabbed a bright red apple out of the bowl and hastily bit into it. While he chomped on the apple with one hand, he placed his other hand in his pocket and turned to stare out into the backyard as the sprinklers rotated in perfect synchronicity, much to his pleasure. The sparkling water shooting from the sprinklers brought back a memory of him and his younger brother, Sam, playing in the backyard of one of their neighbor’s homes when they were children. He remembered the sound of Sam’s laugh when Dean had slipped and covered the front of his body in mud, quickly trying to clean himself off in the sprays of water. To avoid him getting in trouble alone, Sam had willingly covered himself in mud as well. Dean smiled sadly at the thought of Sam as he felt himself slipping into territory he refused to enter. He shook the thoughts from his head and bit back into the apple.

“Having some trouble with the toaster?”

Dean turned around to Cas popping the burnt toast out of the toaster. 

“You could burn water, Dean.” 

He winked, turned to the fridge and stacked a multitude of ingredients into his arms. He was wearing plaid pajama pants and an oversized Iron Maiden T-shirt. His hair was handsomely messy and he looked well rested. 

Dean smiled at the choice of apparel.

“Iron Maiden, huh?”

Cas dumped the various ingredients into a bowl and began whisking.

“Ha, yeah. Stolen from an Ex. I call it ‘Cas Tax’.”

“Cas Tax?”

“The price one pays for dating me.”

Dean chuckled lightly and Cas smiled, set aside the batter, pulled out a pan and began heating it up.

“So, how was your morning? Sorry I slept in so late.”

Dean shrugged his shoulders and sat at the table.

“Fine, it was fine. Not much to do so I just fixed your sprinklers. They were…annoying me. Couldn’t sleep that well with water shooting all over your windows.” 

Cas turned around from pouring the pancake mixture onto the pan.

“You…what?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders again in an attempt to pretend that it wasn’t that big of a deal, even though as he began to think about it, it did seem a little strange.

“It’s no big deal. They just needed to be recalibrated and you had all the equipment in the shed in your backyard. Wasn’t trying to intrude…they were just annoying as hell.”

Cas, aware of Dean’s obvious embarrassment at the presumptuous manhandling of his wayward sprinkler system, raised his eyebrows in approval and turned back to the pan, flipping the pancakes.

“Well, all I have to pay you back with is pancakes. Hope they’ll suffice.” 

He smiled and placed a stack of pancakes in front of Dean, seating himself across from him. He glanced at him as he devoured the pancakes and smiled, relishing the momentary bliss that accompanied the thought of Dean fixing his sprinklers – and being embarrassed by it. 

After the food, Dean wrote a checklist of improvements he thought Cas needed to make. Cas stuck the list on his fridge and gave him a ride home after Dean complained of his massively busy schedule for the day. Dean had hoped Cas would bring up the situation from the night prior, but Cas refrained and chatted nonchalantly about which improvement to his home he should tackle first. Dean replied to all of Cas’s inquiries with eager participation, but couldn’t get the thought of Cas’s touch out of his head. Aware at every second of the physical nearness of Cas, Dean fidgeted the entire way home, something that Cas took notice of but decided not to comment on. When they finally arrived at Dean’s, the two parted ways in a friendly manner with no discussion of what had taken place the night prior and no discussion of future plans. Cas had simply wished Dean a good day and waved behind him as he drove off into the distance.

Cas’s cheerful disposition seemed to fade with every minute he spent traveling in the opposite direction of where his desire lay. His head wasn’t filled with the same emotional confusion that Dean’s was – he knew exactly how he was beginning to feel. That being said, he sensed that Dean was in a constant state of tension when the two of them were in close quarters with one another, and had no idea how far he was permitted to go in terms of physical expression. He wasn’t even sure Dean liked him that much, maybe he was just incredibly drunk last night, maybe he hadn’t even remembered what happened – Cas didn’t know. 

When he was almost home, Cas’s phone rang with an unwelcomed tone, effectively vaporizing any and all thoughts of Dean. He felt his stomach drop as his car sat unmoving at a now green-lighted intersection, the sound of the angry middle-aged woman cursing at him as she sped past him being drowned out by the specifically set ring tone. He didn’t answer. The phone continued to ring as Cas’s heart rate and breathing both increased. Another car honked angrily at him and sped past. Cas stared straight ahead. The phone finally gave up and quit ringing. 

In the silence that followed Cas could only hear his own irregular breathing. He sat at the intersection for what seemed like hours. He finally released his tight grip on the steering wheel and pressed his hands to his face, attempting to regain some type of footing in reality. The ringtone kept replaying in his ears, despite the fact that he had been stopped at the light for more than two entire cycles of green lights.

He let out a slow, shaky breath and placed his hands back on the steering wheel. He drove home in a state of anxiety, worried that the phone would start up again with the same threatening tone. When he was safely home and inside, he boiled water for tea and took a seat at the table, his phone deep in his pocket, waiting. After a few minutes, he finally took out the phone and unlocked it. 

One Missed Call.

One New Voicemail.

After hesitating for a few moments, Cas tapped his finger on the screen where the small icon indicating the New Voicemail was located. The phone connected and rang once, prompting the recognizable automated voice letting him know that he had a message. Just as the phone said, “First New Voice Message”, Cas panicked and hung up. 

He knew who it was from. 

He didn’t know what they wanted, but he knew who it was from. 

He turned the phone off and went to the kitchen to finish making his tea. His mind was flooded with an offputting mixture of confusion and anxiety. At any moment, the phone could ring again and produce the reaction that had occurred in the car, something he couldn’t believe he let happen. He was frustrated with himself for failing to be as strong as he had thought himself to be. It had been nearly twelve years and he was still having that kind of reaction?

_Pathetic._

With the tea brewed, he sat back down at the table and stared vacantly across from him. His body felt weak. He knew it would be impossible for him to listen to the voicemail, yet he feared the consequences if he continued to ignore it. 

They would know the call went through. They would know he chose to ignore it. He brought the hot cup of tea slowly up to his lips, sipped lightly and set the cup back down. His eyes filled with hot tears as he confronted the fact that he had made absolutely no progress in twelve years. All the counseling, the self-help books and groups, even the anxiety meds. Nothing had changed. He was the same person he was back then. Frightened, small, and weak. Unable to escape anything. Unable to control anything. 

He pushed the cup of tea away from him and buried his head in his arms on the table, his eyes burned with frustration, anger, and tears.

He had made no progress. 

None.

_Absolutely pathetic._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains sexually super explicit language. If you're uncomfortable with that or weren't expecting it due to the nature of my previous chapters, I apologize!

When Dean showed up to work on Tuesday, Cas wasn’t there. After speaking to Tyler for a few minutes, he was informed that Cas hadn’t shown up for work for three days. 

“Apparently he has some family business he’s gotta’ deal with. Boss said he didn’t know when Cas would be back.”

Dean’s day went by incredibly fast as he spent the majority of it mentally been flipping through the numerous possibilities for why Cas hadn’t shown up. Family business sure as hell wasn’t the reason -- he didn’t seem like the kind of person who had a lot of familial attachments, if any. All of the pictures at his home were of the outdoors, or of him and some dog (that he hadn’t mentioned). Family types usually had walls covered in pictures of their miscellaneous family gatherings – pool parties, barbecues, graduations, birthdays, engagements. Cas didn’t have that. Any of it. Dean was aware of this because the lack of family pictures was one of the few similarities between Cas’s home and his own. 

He also felt frustrated by the fact that Cas hadn’t called him, even if only to let him know what was going on. If there really was any kind of family business, business that required him to be away from work for an indeterminate amount of time – why hadn’t he felt the need to speak to Dean? The situation confused him, totally. It also forced him to put their relationship into perspective. While they weren’t friends, he felt that he deserved a more serious title than “Coworker”. Then again, why would he deserve more? They weren’t dating. They weren’t best friends. They weren’t even really mediocre friends. Cas had no allegiance to him. They had a couple beers one night and Cas’s affectionate side came out – so what? That kind of behavior didn’t warrant a phone call. 

At the end of the day Dean looked up Cas’s contact info in the employee directory, making sure that no one saw him. He copied down all the information and made his goodbyes to his fellow coworkers as everyone lazily filed out the door. Once he was safely in his car, he pulled out the crumpled piece of paper and dialed the digits that would connect him with Cas. 

Three rings.

No answer.

“If you would like to leave a voice-”

“Come on man.”

Dean sighed angrily and hung up. 

He dialed the number again and pressed send.

Three rings.

No answer.

“Whatever.”

He threw his phone in the passenger seat and backed his car out, “You don’t wanna answer? Fine. I’ll come on over.” He sped out of the company parking lot towards Cas’s home. 

The streets were newly christened with a sheet of rain that had begun to increase as Dean neared Cas’s home. Any sense of embarrassment at showing up uninvited had either left him during his drive or hadn’t existed at all. His frustration was channeled in to the tapping of his fingers on the steering wheel and the biting of the inside of his lip. He had no plan for what he was going to say when he showed up, unexpected and completely uninvited, at Cas’s home after the dude had been AWOL for the past three days. He figured he’d approach the situation like a concerned employee rather than a sad puppy. He rounded the corner to Cas’s block and felt his chest tighten as he glimpsed Cas’s house. The lights were on in the bedroom and the living room and Cas’s truck was in the driveway. 

“Well son of a bitch, look who’s at home.”

Dean parked his car across the street and hesitated for a few moments. 

He hadn’t fucked in weeks. He hadn’t had a drink in 3 days. He hadn’t slept in 2. And he hadn’t eaten since early that morning. This was no time for bashfulness. If Cas wanted to be rude, ignore his phone calls and not show up to work due to some bullshit “family business”, fine. But nowhere did it say that Dean couldn’t be just as rude and show up whenever he wanted. He felt angrier with each step that he took towards Cas’s home. The lights made it look warm and welcoming, which really just pissed Dean off even more. It was unfair. Why did he have to sleep alone in his cold, uninviting house? Why couldn’t he be the one that didn’t show up due to “family business”? Why was he the one showing up at someone else’s house, time after time after time? 

He reached the door and knocked, hard. 

A few minutes went by with no answer.

“I know you’re in there dude, your lights are on.” Dean said, a little louder than he wanted to.

He knocked again, this time ringing the doorbell as well.

No answer.

Dean curled his hand into a fist and pounded the door three times.

No answer.

He took a few steps back and turned around on Cas’s porch, shaking his head. The rain was still coming down and his shoes had gotten wet on the march up to Cas’s door. He was cold, pissed, and alone, again. He started chuckling at how pathetic the whole thing was. What was his plan, anyways? Knock on the door, say “Fuck You” for not calling him, be invited into a warm home as an apology and spend the night again? He ran his hand through his hair and pulled in frustration, turning around as he heard the tumblers in the lock rotate.

The door opened.

Cas stood in the doorway in a gray sweatshirt and navy blue plaid pajama pants. It was obvious he hadn’t shaved since Dean last saw him and he looked exhausted. He had a tumbler in one hand with what looked like whiskey. His eyes were puffy and red and his voice was coarse. He looked terrible.

Dean’s face twisted through multiple emotions. He tried to hang on to the wispy remnants of his frustration, but felt them quickly dissipate. He hadn’t expected what he was seeing. He hadn’t expected the man who had reduced him to a shy mess only a few days before to stand before him, obviously on the verge of tears. 

Cas opened his mouth to say something but only felt his voice catch. He felt shaky. He felt the heat signifying embarrassment emanating from his cheeks as another round of hot tears began to fill his eyes. He felt small and weak, on the porch of his own home, in the presence of this particular man. And it just _had_ to be him. He felt his lip shaking and his eyes searched around frantically for something to focus on, a failed attempt to prevent himself from crying in front of Dean.

Dean walked forward and pulled Cas into him, encasing his body in his strong arms. Cas’s arms went limp and the tumbler slipped from his fingers, fell on the porch and rolled beneath his hammock. His chest felt heavy and he buried his face into Dean’s shoulder, without hesitation. His efforts to keep back the frustration and pain that was expressing itself through his tears proved fruitless. He put his hands underneath Dean’s leather jacket and pulled at his shirt, crying heavily into his shoulder. Dean felt Cas’s body becoming weaker through the exhaustion of crying and whatever else he had been going through before Dean had arrived. He held Cas in his arms until he felt Cas’s body relax and heard his breathing beginning to regulate. Cas pulled away slowly from Dean’s body and kept his eyes down as Dean walked him towards the couch. 

His house was a mess. 

Dean sat Cas on the couch and went to the kitchen to get him some water. He took note of the multitude of documents that were strewn about the table, the numerous mugs that were both empty and half-filled with coffee, and the bottle of pills that was in the center of the mess. Dean filled an empty glass with water and sat down on the couch next to Cas, who was pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Drink this.”

Cas refused.

Dean held the glass in his hand for a few minutes before placing it on the small table before them.

“What’s happened, Cas?”

He said this without looking at him, trying to gain some knowledge from the papers that were in front of him. Most of the papers seemed to be legal documents from sort of trial, but Dean wasn’t sure. Cas remained silent.

“Cas?”

Cas turned to look at Dean. Dean’s cheeks flushed as he couldn’t help but think of how, even in this moment, Cas looked as if he wanted something that Dean owed him. Cas stared at him for a few more moments and began to lean forward. Dean’s stomach fluttered and he remained motionless. He closed his eyes as Cas ran his fingers through his hair. 

“Why are you here?” He said slowly, feeling Dean’s soft and damp hair glide along his fingers. 

Dean opened his eyes to Cas’s face two inches from his own. 

The two maintained eye contact until Cas’s solemn blue eyes flashed and he backed off, sunk into his side of the couch and stared forward.

Dean cleared his throat in an attempt to clear his mind and put his face in his hand, muffling his reply.

“You didn’t show up for work dude.”

“So? I called it in.”

“You’ve shown up for every single shift every single week that I’ve been at that store. It’s…It’s weird. It’s weird when you don’t show up. And I know-”  
“I had family bus-”

“Yeah, family business, or whatever, I know. I heard. But you don’t really seem like you’re dealing with any family business right now. It seems like you’re dealing with something else.”

Cas got off the couch, walked around to the backside of his weathered coffee table, and faced Dean.

“Dean…why are you here?” 

Dean looked up from the empty coffee cup sitting on the table into Cas’s eyes.

“I already told you, I’m here because you weren’t at work.”

“Right. So. You come all the way out here because you’re worried about a coworker?”

There was that title. 

Dean felt the hit directly and felt himself immediately closing off. He himself had questions about why he had driven all the way out, uninvited, to see Cas. But to hear Cas confirm his own reservations aloud rekindled the frustration he had felt on his initial drive out.

“Yeah. Cause I’m worried about a freakin’ coworker. You’re damn skippy. Look, man, I don’t know what kind of shit you have goin’ on here but you look like hell. Your place looks even worse and you haven’t been showing up to work for the past 3 days. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Is it a fucking crime that I showed up?”

Cas shook his head and broke down, yelling back.

“YES, it’s a fucking crime to show up here! I look like shit because I wasn’t expecting someone I WORK with to show up at my home in the middle of the night! Why is it ANY of your business if I have family issues? You don’t know a thing about me Dean, so how would you know if I have family problems? Why do you even CARE?!”

Dean opened his mouth to say something and Cas continued before he could even start.

“You don’t know me Dean. You don’t know what’s going on in my life. In fact, you don’t have a single clue what I’m dealing with. So why do you care? WHY are you here?” 

Dean stayed quiet for a few minutes before responding.  
“You know what man... I came here because I cared about what was going on with you. Because I don’t think of you as just some asshole I fucking work with. I came here because I – I thought that you might need help…I thought that I could help… or some shit, I don’t know dude. I came over because I was fucking worried, alright? Is that what you want to here? I’m HERE because I was WORRIED.”

Cas’s anger dissipated through his veins as the room fell silent. The frustrated breathing from both of them slowly came down as Cas walked back to the couch and sat down, motioning for Dean to do the same. Dean hesitated for a few moments and followed suit. The two remained silent for, what seemed like, hours. The sound of the rain hitting the roof filled the space as the two sat motionless on Cas’s couch. Cas finally broke the silence by turning to look at Dean.

“Sorry,” He said, avoiding eye contact. Dean turned towards him and noticed the flushed look of his cheeks and the brow furrowed in frustration, or embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, this time with more empathy, turning to look at Dean directly.

Cas shifted his body towards Dean’s and looked in front of him, “I guess I wasn’t…sure.”

Something inside of Dean clicked. 

Dean grabbed the back of Cas’s head and pushed him towards his own. His rough lips met with Cas’s soft ones in a manner that expressed all of his pent up frustration ten-fold. Cas softly bit Dean’s lower lip and Dean tightened his grasp on Cas’s hair as he let out an exasperated sigh. He met the soft bite with a much tougher one, released, and slipped his tongue over the lip he had just practically pierced. Cas was happily surprised by the softness of Dean’s tongue and pressed his own tongue in response. Dean pulled back, paused, and went back in, biting Cas’s lip again. Cas responded with an unexpected moan that sent Dean over the edge. He pushed Cas back on the couch and kneeled over him, quickly pulling down Cas’s pants. Cas continued to hold on to Dean’s hair as he closed his eyes. Dean lowered his head and kissed Cas’s neck roughly, transitioning to a multitude of bites as he rubbed his hand lightly over Cas’s briefs.

He felt his own cock harden as he spread his hand over Cas’s dick, rubbing soft and slow at first as he took in the visual of Cas’s eyelids closing in disbelief. His cheeks were bright red and his brow was once again, furrowed. There were tiny beads of perspiration forming on the tip of his nose. His mouth was partially open, betraying his determination to maintain some sort of composure as Dean stroked his cock. Dean bent down and bit Cas’s lip, drawing blood, as he continued to rub Cas’s dick. Cas hurriedly tried to pull down his briefs, unable to maintain composure under Dean’s teasingly rough hands. Dean met his eyes as he wrapped his hand around Cas’s shaft, finger by finger. He squeezed until Cas’s eyes sparked and he knew had found the right grip. He felt his own dick throbbing as he continued to rub Cas’s dick, increasing his speed to match his own racing heartbeat. Dean felt beads of sweat on his own brow starting to form as he felt Cas’s own hot breath reaching his body. When Dean’s arm started to cramp, Cas pushed his face into the pillow and moaned loudly into the blanket, grabbing a fistful of Dean’s shirt and pulling him towards him. Dean understood the motion and forced through the pain, increased his speed until Cas rapidly turned to face him and squeezed his eyes shut, yelling Dean’s name as a stream of gooey white cum shot onto the shirt of Dean, whose smile was broad and eyes bright with intense satisfaction at the sight of his success.


	7. Chapter 7

_Rourke & Associates_  
32 Willow Drive  
Northampton, MA 01060 

_Dear Mr. Novak,_

_I am under the understanding that you have not wished to be in contact with any of your family unless it was absolutely necessary that you be involved. As I am unsure if anyone has notified you, I feel it is my job as your family’s lawyer to let you know that your mother passed on Tuesday, September 17th. Unfortunately, it is necessary that you come to our Massachusetts office as soon as possible to go through your mother's will as well as her final requests. I know this may seem like a lot in this difficult time, but there is much that needs to be done. I have tried calling the number you left with the office in case of an emergency, but there was no reply. You wished to be notified of your father’s involvement in any situation such as the one we find ourselves in presently and I am letting you know that he will be present at the meeting you are required to attend. I am sorry for your loss Mr. Novak and I sincerely hope that this letter finds you in good health. I do hope that this address is still the correct one. Please get in contact with me so we can set up a time to meet._

_Sincerely,_

_Layla Rourke LLC  
_  

 

\------------------------------------------------------

 

 

Dean held the crisp paper between his fingers as he stood over the dining table, his eyes flitting over the numerous other documents that were scattered about. The switch on the kettle popped, alerting him that the water had finished boiling and also that he was totally snooping through someone else’s personal mail. _A death in the family? No contact unless it was an emergency?_ He had accused Cas of lying about the family business when that couldn’t have been nearer to the truth. His freaking mother had passed. Not to mention the weird relationship with the father. He put the letter on the counter and reached up into the oak cabinet in search of instant coffee. He pulled the kettle off the stand and poured the hot water over the instant coffee he had in the mug. Leaning back on the kitchen counter he lifted the cup to his lips and blew on it, thoughts of Cas filling his mind. 

After their session last night, Cas had offered Dean his downstairs shower and a pair of old clothes for him to sleep in. Dean had expected some type of cuddling session to take place after the shower or some invitation to sleep in Cas’s bed, but none of that happened. After he had taken the shower, he walked out into the living room to find Cas had gone upstairs. Dean had stayed awake for hours replaying what had happened, noticing the familiar warming sensation that teased him. He managed to keep it in his pants long enough to finally fall asleep.

Dean sipped at the coffee and immediately withdrew his tongue, cursing inwardly at the burn. His mood dropped at the thought of not being able to taste anything for the next few hours as he popped an ice cube into the hot mug of coffee. Foot steps descended slowly down the stairs. 

“Dean?” Cas said, lazily.

“Yep, I’m here.” 

He walked out from behind the counter with the mug in his hand, blowing on the hot coffee.

Cas let out a small chuckle as he put on a pair of slippers.

“Wasn’t really expecting you to still be here if I’m being honest.”

Dean wrinkled his brow and gave a questioning smile. 

“Huh. Why’s that?”

Cas passed him and entered the kitchen. Dean’s closed his eyes as Cas’s cinnamon scent faded as he walked further from him. Cas chatted to him behind the counter, pouring crappy coffee into his own mug and using the rest of the water Dean had boiled.

“Not sure. Part of me thought you would’ve felt…”

Dean stepped into the kitchen, visibly irritated.

“What? Felt what?” 

“I don’t know… embarrassed? Unsure? Confused?”

Dean didn’t say anything as his eyes dropped to the black coffee swirling around in his cup. 

Cas continued, “You just don’t seem like you know what you’re doing with another man, is all.”

Dean immediately opened his mouth in protest, embarrassed and offended by what Cas was implying. Had he been that crappy? 

Cas held up his hand before Dean could reply.

“And I don’t mean sexually, Dean, before you get all macho on me,” Dean’s body relaxed as Cas went on, “I mean, ever since I invited you out for drinks, you’ve just seemed kind of unsure. Is this—is this the first time you’ve been with a man?”

Dean quickly looked up from his coffee and met Cas’s bright blue eyes, maintaining eye contact for only a few seconds before dropping his own from embarrassment. Cas sipped at his own coffee and leaned back on the kitchen counter, a posture that asserted his calmness in discussion of such a topic. Almost like he’d had this exact talk before. Dean, on the other hand, had taken the questioning as a direct reference to his inability to please Cas, even though if the previous night had been any indication, Dean was perfectly fine in that category. He felt inadequate. How many men had Cas been with? So what if this was Dean’s first time with a man? Was it that obvious? He looked up from his coffee with an attitude of apathy.

“Yeah, well, sorry if last night wasn’t good for you. It was a stressful situation, alright?” He sipped the coffee, wincing slightly as the hot liquid rolled over his burning taste buds. 

Cas had a look of concern as he recognized that he hadn’t approached the situation correctly. He put his own mug on the counter behind him and stopped leaning backwards. 

“Dean, look at me.”

Dean looked at him, offended.

“Dean,” Cas’s voice was rough, but comforting, “I wasn’t commenting on last night. Last night was fantastic. I mean that. I’m a verbal person and I would have said something if I didn’t like what you were doing. Trust me when I say this, last night was great.”

Dean’s body relaxed slightly.

“I’m just genuinely wondering if this is your first time with a man, mostly because I would like to keep seeing you-” 

Dean’s face lit up.

“--and this would go a lot smoother if I knew where you were coming from.”

He felt like a highschooler getting asked out to prom. He tried his best to contain his excitement in an effort to look “cool” as he admitted to Cas that yes, that had been his first time with a man. Cas seemed pleased. _Really_ pleased. 

The two finished their coffees and Cas took the mugs to the sink as Dean complained about being hungry. Cas suggested a local diner, his favorite, which Dean excitedly agreed to. Once in the car, the two discussed the death of Rock, Cas’s favorite books, and sprinkler systems in a casual and cheery manner. The weather was overcast and drizzling, but Dean felt a warmth and simplicity that was almost tangible whenever he was with Cas. Cas noticed the easy way in which he could get Dean to smile and the way his eyes lit up each time Cas asked questions that showed interest in whatever Dean was speaking about. It was as though he was speaking to someone who had been in solitary confinement for the past three weeks and had come up with the most spectacular theories. He liked the way Dean moved his hands emphatically when explaining the intricacies of a French irrigation system, the right way to fix a broken car radio, the headache involved in rewiring a lighting system, or the difficulty of toasting toast. He also liked the way that silence passed between them: easy, unnoticed, intimate. No rush to fill the drop in conversation. No small talk in attempt to pretend there was always something to say. It was simple.

Once the two had reached _Ellen’s_ , the growl of Dean’s stomach could be heard over the engine of Cas’s truck. Cas ordered French toast and a coffee while Dean ordered 3 scrambled eggs, 3 slices of bacon, 2 slices of toast, a side of biscuits, and a coffee. Cas had raised an eyebrow when Dean ordered which was met with a prompt, “Shutup.” 

When the two were brought their drinks, a silence fell between them that seemed different then the one before. Dean kept thinking about the letter he had read earlier that morning, unsure of how to approach the situation. He hadn’t dealt with the death of a family member in a long, long time and knowing _exactly_ how heartbreaking and destabilizing the situation could be, he was surprised that Cas had even managed to get out of bed that morning. In fact, Cas’s present seemingly-positive attitude seemed strange, now that Dean thought about it. He had been such a wreck the night before, why was he so cheery today? It sure as shit wasn’t simply because he had gotten a freakin’ handjob the night before. It was something more. Something different. 

“So, why haven’t you said anything about the letter you read?” Cas looked at Dean while pouring a small container of cream into his coffee. 

Dean’s face burned red as he fumbled for an answer.

“Uhhhh--”

“Don’t bother lying. I know you read it. You left it by the kettle and I distinctly remember leaving it on the table, since that’s where I was before you came knocking at my door last night.”

Dean cleared his throat.

“Yeah, uhm, sorry. That was rude.”

“Can’t argue with you there.”

Embarrassment increase.

“No, yeah, not cool to read other people’s mail. I was just trying to—uhm—sorry about your loss, Cas.” Dean searched in Cas’s eyes for the emotion he couldn’t make out on his face, except there was nothing. No sadness, no frustration, no tears about to fall, nothing. 

“Thanks, Dean. I appreciate that.” He went back to sipping at his coffee and peering out the foggy windows. The drizzle had turned to slightly-harder drizzle and was currently trying its best to fill all the potholes in _Ellen’s_ parking lot. 

Dean was confused. That was it? “ _I appreciate that?” Really?_ His filter failed him.

“Yeah, sorry to press this but…that’s it? I read through your personal mail, it happens to be about your mother _passing away_ and you appreciate what I have to say? Why aren’t you angry? Or crying? Why are you so composed right--”

“French Toast for the cutie pie comin’ through!” An older woman with gray hair and a bright smile interrupted Dean’s interrogation; laying out the food they had both forgotten about. “And practically a feast for the one with the smolder.” She placed the rest of the food on the table, winked at Dean, and patted Cas’s shoulder as she moved on to her next customers. Cas began cutting his French toast.

“Last night, and the past three days, have been rough for me. I know you’re probably thinking it’s because my mother passed that all of this is happening, but that’s not the main reason. I know that sounds fucked up, but that’s the truth. Her death was something…something that was inevitable and expected. My mother was not a stable woman.”

Dean listened, forgetting that the massive amount of food he had ordered was getting colder by the second.

“Long story short—I was such a mess because my mother’s death means that I’ll have to go back home and sort out her affairs. It means I’ll have to interact with my father, who I haven’t seen in _years_ and for good reason. I just don’t want to have to deal with it and I don’t know how going back will affect me. I’m just…worried.”

Cas looked up from his food at Dean, who hadn’t touched his. 

“Now, would you eat something? You’re letting your ridiculous amount of food get cold.”

“Okay, but I just-”

“No. Eat your food. We’ll talk about this later, I’m sure.” Cas’s face was serious, but warm. Dean agreed to get off the topic until Cas wanted to speak about it and managed to eat almost all of the food he ordered, with Cas stepping in to eat the biscuits. 

After they left the diner, Dean had Cas stop by a home improvement store so that he could get supplies to fix the weathered windows at Cas’s home. The rest of the day was spent with Cas cleaning up the inside of his home and Dean managing to fix nearly all the window panes that the sprinklers had managed to ruin after years of abuse. Questions about Cas’s past occupied Dean’s mind for most of the day, but he stayed true to his agreement and kept the thoughts to himself. 

When the sun had finally set and Dean was forced to stop working, he packed up the tools and put them in Cas’s shed. He walked up the small rock path and reached for his flask, pausing for a moment to look at the yard around him. He bent down and ran his hands through the damp dirt, thinking of his own backyard with its dry earth and dead plants. Everything in Cas’s backyard seemed brighter. 

“You hungry?” Cas asked, yelling through the window above the sink in his kitchen.

Dean stood up and nodded, putting the flask back in his coat without taking a drink. When he went inside, the smell of takeout reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since the diner.

“Was too lazy to cook anything, hope you like Chinese.” Cas smiled as he served himself a plate of a variety of foods. 

Dean went to the sink and washed his hands, scrubbing the dirt and dust out from underneath his fingernails.

“I wasn’t aware that I was invited to dinner.” He smirked at himself, watching the dirt and dust mix with the soapy water as it swirled down the drain.

“Huh. Lucky you.” Cas replied as he sat down at his table, a grin forming at the edges of his lips.

Dean pretended he was scrubbing more dirt off his hands as his mind raced with ideas for what another night at Cas’s meant. Maybe they would get to kiss again? Maybe he’d get the chance to see him naked? Or maybe they’d get to do more, and Dean would receive a better title than ‘First-Timer’. The thought of Cas’s soft lips and hard dick made his own dick stiffen. He turned off the water and dried his hands on a pumpkin orange towel hanging off a small hook above the sink. _Stop thinking about it for fuck’s sake, don’t walk out with a fucking erection, you’re not a twelve year old, dumbass._ He shoveled some food on to his plate and quickly sat down at the table, thinking of anything that could distract him from the thought of Cas’s body. The thought of Cas slowly unbuckling his belt, whispering in his ear all the things he’d been wanting to do all day as he nibbled on his ear lo-

“You look nervous, Dean.” Cas said, slurping up a forkful of chicken chow mein. 

Dean laughed, a lot louder than he had intended, and stuffed a mix of rice with broccoli into his mouth. Cas’s smile widened in a superior sort of way. He had noticed Dean’s erection in the split second it took him to sit down. He himself had been thinking about what another night spent at his house could mean for Dean, and his own smile just kept getting wider. It was a strange feeling. Part of him felt guilty for wanting to play with Dean even though he knew that it would only mean a temporary escape from the shit he’d have to deal with eventually. But then again, it was Dean. Dean Winchester. The First-Timer. The boy whose eyes melted like ice cream on an apple pie whenever he ran his fingers through his hair. And if he was triggered so easily off of that, the possibilities for the night were endless.


End file.
